Moth to the Flame
by acolyth
Summary: Benawi & Oboro have more in common than they'd like to admit... Warnings: Spoilers for the entire series as the story progresses, and yaoi. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. One

**NOTE:** I have finished the anime series and have decided to incorporate this story towards the middle-end of it, following there after. So I'll just post this once, in addition to in the story's summary: Spoilers ahead.**  
**

**Moth to the Flame**  
First Installment

Sharp eyes watched ahead in lethargic disinterest, unyielding and aloof as the deflected sunrays from the fluttering leaves outside flickered in his usual, lifeless gaze. Benawi's face rarely gave way to emotions, mere crunching of the brow and tightening of thin lips all he'd seemingly ceded to, as if emotions were to weaken him. Occasionally one could see a mere curve of a smile, but it was never in _his_ presence. Hot-headed and short-tempered, Oboro looked beyond any rationale, which caused an exchange of harsh words between Benawi and himself on every occasion granted.

"How many people have to die until you realize waiting won't help anymore!?" Oboro growled over his spilt cup of tea, it's contents splashed out when he'd slammed it against the ground seconds prior. He clenched his teeth to mask the burn he felt, the liquid's temperature turning all but his knuckles red.

"Storming in when we are at a disadvantage will only cause more deaths, and then there'll be no one left to fight" Benawi replied calmly, eyes slit as he kept his cold gaze on the youth.

"Sire, understand that the soldiers are weak, some were facing death and are still recovering, we need time," the silver head continued in his calm, deep voice, eyes now settled on the man with the mask: Hakuoro, the Emperor, who was sitting amongst them quietly.

"It's better to die fighting for a cause, than let them kill us!" Oboro shouted, shocked gasps from his two faithful followers, Dori and Gura, echoing behind him. His hazel eyes narrowed as Benawi acknowledged him with his aloof stare, obviously unimpressed with the verbal outburst. The brisk youth in contrast was predictable, which earned him that odious stare he loathed. It was much like a vicious circle, his senseless words ensuing in detached remarks, strengthening Benawi's will to remain composed, an impersonal attitude which made Oboro's blood boil.

"**Our** cause is to protect the people," Benawi replied sharply, eyes lowered as he paused for effect, lifting his cup to his lips for a silent sip.

"If you are willing to send everyone to their deaths so selfishly," he continued, setting the cup down, the room in silence. Slate grey eyes glanced up, brow furrowed in annoyance at the youth's insolence. The words that would follow would take out yet another part of the youth's pride: "then go get yourself killed. There's no place for audacious punks in this army..."

Not even the wind dared to tousle the leaves outside, the tension near snapping, all eyes moving from one man to another. Oboro took a deep, nasal breath, knuckles white as he fisted them in repressed anger. He could have struck that flawless face, but chances were Benawi would have dodged, further ridiculing the young Lord. Instead, as always when tension was near breaking point, Oboro retrieved in silence, but this time pulled himself to his feet and made his way to the door without a word.

Dori and Gura followed, catching up with their young master, who calmly asked for some time alone. They knew better than to insist, the soft-tone of his request telltale to the soon-to-come fuse he'd blow in private. Once outside, he gripped the hilt of both swords at his waist and made his way towards a sideways entrance to the royal court. It took a few minutes for him to stop running, chest heaving as he glanced back at the layers and layers of trunks and leaves. Only then did he draw the deadly blades with a sounding swish of metal to wooden scabbard, lashing out at everything around him with mastered dexterity.

* * *

This is particularly short, don't get used to it.**   
: )** Please review. Suggestions are welcome. 


	2. Two

The sun set earlier these days, and the passing of summer seemed much to sudden for Benawi, his thoughts reserved to military strategy for the last four months. The war's end was nowhere in sight, and despite how easily fooled one could be when within the city's walls, the bloodshed beyond the mountain range had visibly taken it's tow on the people. Families had been torn apart, single mothers raising their children without the help of their faithful partners. It seemed unfair really, that so many had to die for the right to live; and not until now had he considered Witsuarunemitea to be so cruel.

A sigh escaped him as he glanced back, Hakuoro still hunched over scrolls, the brush in his hands moving slower than earlier. He watched a few more seconds before the knock on the door distracted him, his fierce gaze setting upon the room's entrance.

"Come in" he heard Hakuoro call out, the masked face revealing itself from behind the dark curtain of hair. Benawi's brow raised out of curiosity, his assumption that Eruru would be the sole intruder at this time defied as one of Oboro's followers stepped in and bowed. He looked out the window once more, whatever business they brought none of his concern, especially if it had anything to do with the insolent twerp they called 'master'.

"Dori, what brings you here this late?" Hakuoro's voice was calm, his words slow, which were more then enough to correctly assume the tedious work Benawi had chained him to all afternoon was taking it's toll on him.

"It's Gura, Sir" the young archer corrected with a bow, approaching towards the short table where sat the masked Emperor. Blue-clay eyes were quick to settle on the shadowed figure seated by the open balcony door, and a third bow took place, this time directed to the valiant samurai.

"Sorry, Gura," Hakuoro corrected, setting down the brush and reaching for the cup of sake besides him on the floor, "What brings you here?"

Benawi watched the younger boy, lips thin as they remained together, his head barely moving to return the bow as the arched continued to watch him, despite being addressed by the emperor. The samurai moved only slightly under the scrutinizing glare, the superfluous cloth of his evening haori and hakama hissing against the tatami as he did.

"Our Lord has still not returned," he said quietly, his voice still sounding effeminate to Benawi's ears no matter how convinced he was the archer was a male, "and he was harmed in battle yesterday," he continued, the words beginning to sink in.

The young boy looked over at Hakuoro, "Dori and I would like permission to go look for him, sir. We know he's stubborn, but he wouldn't miss his nightly visit to see Yahuza," he paused and bit his lip, as if not daring to fully express his concern, as if there was information he could not tell which would prove this to be a case much more serious then it might appear. Benawi wasn't the only one to notice the lack of reasons for the boy's request.

"Oboro couldn't be far, and I'm sure a mere scratch will not be keeping him," Hakuoro offered after emptying his porcelain cup, his words picked carefully to shake the naïve youth, "The sun has just set, maybe he went to town to keep away from this guy," he motioned in direction of Benawi. The man served himself an other cup of sake, waiting for a reply, his eyes glancing briefly at the archer.

"Sir, please, all we need is permission to pass the city walls, it is not normal that he has not returned, and I'm scared he might not be able to…" Gura stopped himself for saying any more, his dropped as his fists clenched to his sides, "We know our Master, Sir Hakuoro"

The emperor was finishing his second cup of sake, his eyes settling on Benawi, as if passing on the conversation to him, much too exhausted to manipulate the youth into spilling the beans Oboro had made sure no one was to know of.

The silver haired warrior nodded once more and glanced at the dark sky, a rim of vibrant orange lining the dark mountains at the distance. There was no moon tonight. He cleared his throat and moved to his feet, back turned to Hakuoro and Gura as the sliding doors were shut gently.

"Gura, if there is something we must know, I recommend you tell us," he said sternly, turning around to walk towards the lit area of the room, where he stood a good ten inches taller than the archer. The boy didn't say a word, perked ears now facing the ground as they were held back in building annoyance; Benawi continued, "I made it quite clear today that we will not be taking any risks, and to send you two out without guards might cause more trouble than Oboro is worth," he stepped towards the emperor's table and picked up the signed scrolls, walking them over to a drawer by the glowing light.

"Then send guards-"

"No, I do not want to create unnecessary commotion," he cut the boy off, kneeling before Hakuoro's table, not giving Gura the slightest glance, "No guards will leave the city walls, and you and Dori will certainly not go against my decision, is it understood?"

The lump in Gura's throat grew, his canines on display and he curled his lip in anger, brow furrowed, "My loyalty is to my master, not you," he growled, glancing at Hakuoro who was now raising to his feet. This conversation was over. It was probably the first time since the formation of Tusukuru that Gura left without acknowledging the emperor, sliding door slamming as it was thrown open.

Hakuoro glanced at Benawi, both men standing on opposite sides of the small table, "Do you think it is wise?"

"I do not want to put my men's lives into jeopardy by sending them into the mountain on a moonless night," he said sternly, his shoulders back and head high as usual, a sigh masked as frustration the only sign of doubt towards his own decision.

"You know better than I do," Hakuoro yawned, stretching his arm over his head as the other hand rubbed his numbed rear, "I suppose Oboro's still angry at you, but he'll come around," he then added with a grunt, feet leading him to the door, "Anyways, I can barely keep my eyes open. Good night."

Benawi bowed his head silently, remaining still as he watched the man exit into the hallway. An eerie silence settled, the castle completely quiet set for the late summer wind picking up outside. It was in this moment that he let his shoulders drop and a sigh escape him, if there was nothing to worry about as he'd said, then Oboro would have seen his sister, and Gura would not be reporting.

"I guess I'll have to set this straight myself then," he mumbled, closing the door behind him.


	3. Three

Though the sun had set, the air remained clammy, causing a layer of sweat to cover his olive toned skin. In the waxing moon's light, his skin looked frail, and glistened ever so slightly. The wound at his waist continued to seep, his brown shirt unable to retain anymore blood and causing the stain to spread over the entirety of his chest and lumbar region. It was too humid for the wound to dry, and with the continuous flow of fresh blood, it was pointless to continue clutching at it in hopes of it stopping. Ever since he'd been a child, Oboro had suffered from a deficiency; his blood did not clot without the aid of medicaments. When he collapsed onto the ground, he felt the humid air press onto him, pushing him towards gravity's pull. He couldn't get up, he was too weak. From the mountain slope where he reclined, he could see the village's glow in the dark night's sky. A small sigh left his lips. It was becoming hard to breathe. Was this death crushing his lungs?

* * *

Usually, Benawi would not leave if not fully prepared, but he'd rather not waste his time. His haste might have appeared as a sign of unease to an outsider, but to him it was just a matter of getting this over with. Armed with his trusted halberd and thick boots, he made his way to the stables, taking one of the rested horses. Where would this child be? The forest was vast, and with his agility and speed, Oboro could have trekked beyond the mountain range. Well, one of the many that surrounded the valley in which Kenashikourupe was grounded. Perhaps he should have taken one of Oboro's faithful servants, they would know better where his haughty self would train. It was too late now, he was already headed towards the eastern range, the only side that lead to allies.

The moon had traveled a quarter of the sky by the time Benawi stopped by the river that surrounded the valley. He climbed off the horse's back and tied the animal, allowing it to drink as he too bent over the crystalline water body, scooping water into his hands. Why had he not brought a water container? As he moistened his hair, he glanced at the sky, the northern peaks raising tauntingly against the starry heavens. He had been searching for a few hours, having covered the entire eastern and northern sides of the valley; fruitlessly looking for the youth. Benawi sighed as he stood straight, setting his hands on his hips as he turned to look towards the west. He was tired and felt uncomfortable in his sticky clothing, but he couldn't give up yet. Deep down he felt slightly guilty, as though he _had_ to look for Oboro, because it was his fault the kid had runaway.

"I hate summer..." he grumbled to himself, running his hand through the horse's mane. The hairs were short and erect, resembling the head of a broom. "Come on," he called out, pulling the horse by the reins and walking towards the forest. The tree branches here were low, and he wouldn't be able to see the dangers in the thick woodland. Through the trunks he could see the village's bright aura as he climbed the side of the mountain. The heated air made it harder for him to breathe, and by the time he reached the first clearing he regretted not bringing any containers for water. It was then, as he searched with squinted eyes that his scrutinizing gaze caught sight of a shadow slumped by the clearing's edge.

"Oboro..." he gasped breathlessly, letting go of the horse's reins as he made his way over to the youth's bloody body. The thin crest of the waxing moon did a poor job in lighting the youth's features, but it was enough to distinguish the large, glistening spot that was creeping through the male's 

clothing. _Blood_. Benawi's eyes shifted, narrowed; was there anyone else around? Had Oboro been attacked? It was then that Gura's words replayed in his mind. _"__I'm scared he might not be able to__"_. Was this what Gura had been keeping from him, that Oboro was injured?

"Shit" the silver-haired samurai cursed under his breath, looking over his shoulder at the horse, then at the village below. Then his attention shifted back to Oboro as he unintentionally set his hand on the youth's soiled stomach. How much blood was there, if this was an old wound, why was it still seeping? Had Oboro reopened it during his time away...?

"Oboro..." Benawi's throat felt thick, the lump refusing to disappear as he reached for the youth's sweat-glistening forehead. He was burning up, and what worried the older man most was the lack of response. _Oh no, don't you dare be dead, kid._

In one swift move, the samurai scooped the limp body off the ground, eyes widening as his bare forearms and hands became drenched in blood. Oh, this wasn't good. Hastily, he struggled to set Oboro's body over the horse's back, then climbed on. It took a few moments before he managed to sit Oboro up, sitting behind him as he directed the wounded body against his broad chest. He could feel the moistness begin to seep through his clothing as he twined one arm around Oboro's waist, unaware of his grip irritating the wound further. The horse was prompt to gallop, the trees and branches swatting his face unimportant as he gripped the reins with his other hand, heels hitting the horse repeatedly. The halberd was left behind.

The warm body bouncing against him caused mixed emotions within him. Though he was worrying, mumbling to himself anxiously as Oboro's head bobbed sideways and his body kept leaning forward, the movement against this spread legs was arousing. Benawi grit his teeth, jaw clenching as he collected his thoughts, focusing on arriving to the village. If only he could announce himself before he got them. As he approached, he noticed the soldiers leaning against the village's wall straighten.

"Fools, it's Benawi, open the door!" he yelled, Oboro's head crashing into his jaw. Grimacing at the taste of blood that filled his mouth, the samurai glared at the entrance. It seemed the guards didn't believe him until they were able to see him up close. Alas, the doors were open, much too slowly. Hissing, Benawi kicked the horse back into full speed, guiding it dangerously through the mostly empty streets of the village, towards the castle.

"Get me the healers!" he called to an idle guard as he came to a stop in the castle's front court, slipping off the horse hurriedly. "What are you waiting for, GO!" he yelled, furious. He reached for the slippery body, clutching onto Oboro's knees and back as he pulled him off the animal's back. With a grunt, he yelled at another guard, "Get the damn horse!"

The urgency was invigorating, suddenly the clammy air didn't seem as much of a problem as much as the dead weight in his body did. Benawi's feet moved quickly through the lit hallways as various different faces peeked out of their chambers.



"Mieko" he called out, the head healer, an older woman with ashen hair, already standing by the room she treated patients in. She motioned him towards the futon and shook her head as she approached, regret filling her eyes as she leaned forward and bent by the bleeding man.

"This is not good," she shook her head, reaching for the string that kept Oboro's clothes wrapped to his body. Her actions appeared delicate despite the urgency. "Oh my..." she whispered, looking up at the youthful face and then at Benawi with saddened eyes.

"Will he survive?" Benawi managed, breathlessly, his voice breaking. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Dori and Gura rushing in through the door. He didn't look at them, instead training his eyes on the lifeless expression adorning Oboro's blood stained features.

"If Witsuarunemitea wishes him to," she spoke quickly, "but I will try, please get me as much water as possible... I need to soak him in a bath before I can do anything..." she stood and rushed towards the furniture lining the wall behind Benawi, "Also, there is **Queen of the Prairie** by the southern side of the castle, beyond the forest, I will need much more than I have stored…" she looked towards the two figures now standing by the wounded.

"It is a high plant with white, often pink, blossoms," she continued, handing Dori a stem with three dried flowers, "It'll stop the bleeding, but I need it quick,"

The two archers now stood together and nodded, both headed towards the door.

"I'll go as well-" Benawi said as he started to make his way towards the door, but the woman stepped in front of him.

"I need you here. I cannot handle this on my own," she spoke quietly, "I need a strong body, I will try to transfer your chakra..."

"Then you'll need me," Hakuoro stepped in, glancing at Benawi, "he's depleted of energy"

Mieko bowed her head and nodded, returning to her library of dried plants and powdered potions.

"I'll get the water," Benawi said quietly.

"Ask for assistance, I need quite a lot it," the old woman nagged, not turning to look at him. Glancing at Hakuoro, the silver-haired man bowed his head and promptly made his way out.

* * *

**Author's note**: I wanted to get this out as soon as possible since it's been delayed for such a long time. I'm sorry if it's not good, but I hope you enjooy it nonetheless.


	4. Four

_Author's note: I am so sorry! Real life just sucks the life out of my brain. On a good note, the break has allowed me to think this much more thoroughly. I'm hoping to continue writing chapters between 1000-2000 words, slowly (but surely!) developing the story. My writing has become rusty during my absence, so beware of the excessive use of semicolons. Other than that, please review. I apologize to those seeking something citrusy, lemons will come in due time, I really want to focus on character development, and tensing sexual tension. Cheers!_

Fourth Installment

It had been a week since the incident and Oboro had yet to wake. Every evening Benawi would swing by the kid after retreating from Hakuoro's office, hopeful he'd witness the boy come back to life. Mieko had explained to them the source of such weakness; Oboro was allergic to the poison that had coated whatever weapon had pierced his flesh, and the stress and physical activity that followed had simply served as a catalyst for the venom to spread through his bloodstream. Upon realizing this, Benawi had immediately left the room in order to inform his subordinates of new battle strategies, an action perceived as much too blasé given the gravity of the matter.

Tonight, as every other night, the silver-haired warrior descended to the cavernous room where the patients were placed. Summer was too humid and hot a season to keep the injured at its mercy. Also, having all the injured and healers in one place would prove to be more efficient. It was something Benawi understood, but he still found the subterranean ward unworthy of Oboro's presence. It smelt of death, and the young samurai was too protective of his fellowship to lose any of his closest acquaintances, especially if they were to die without honor, trapped below the ground.

The feeling that overtook him when he saw Oboro's usual cot empty was paralyzing. How could someone with such flare pass on into the next world so young? Benawi told himself to breathe, but his chest felt tight. Hands clenching nervously, he walked towards the first healer he saw.

"Where is he?"

"He was taken away"

"Where to?"

"I do not know"

Benawi glared at the woman out of the corner of his eyes, jaw tight as he attempted to take a deep breath and rationalize. Clearing his throat, he adjusted the waistline of his yukata and walked away, the healer obviously too young and arrogant to know who she was talking to. Due to his young age, Benawi never attracted the respect he deserved. Those his age did not recognize him for he spent his life within the castle or on the battlefield, never making a lasting impression; and the elders offered mediocre compliments, senile and resentful that their time would soon be up. Still, he did not let this dampen his drive.

There had to be some form of explanation for Oboro's sudden disappearance, and before jumping to hasty conclusions, the silver-haired male decided it would be in his own interest to seek someone who had answers. Luckily, one of the soldiers standing guard by the stairs on the ground floor, was able to provide him with some useful information. Immediately, Benawi found his feet urgently guiding him towards the location he'd been given.

Coming to a sudden stop at the door, the samurai nearly tripped over himself; he was extremely clumsy when out of armor, something he wished no one would ever take note of. By the bed, Yuzuha sat quietly, her brother's hand on her lap between her own. On the opposite side of the bed, he noticed an oil lamp vaporizing opium, the fumes visible briefly before they blended with the background. The use of the substance was strictly limited to healers and dying soldiers in battle, but Benawi could only assume Oboro was made an exception of due to his friendship with Hakuoro, the emperor.

"Benawi?" Yuzuha's voice chimed, disturbing the otherwise dead silence of the night. It was easy to forget how perceptive the blind girl was; shifting his weight awkwardly, Benawi wondered whether he smelled bad enough to be noticed even with sweet, pungent smell of the opium spreading in the room. He assumed she caught on to his awkwardness, for a subtly soft grin caused her lips to curve innocently; he could see it from this angle. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward.

"Good evening, Lady Yuzuha" he greeted her politely, though if she had been able to see him, she would have noticed his eyes were watching beyond her fragile form. Oboro was staring up at him blankly, expression listless; his conscience did not appear to be navigating this world, yet Benawi greeted him nonetheless, "Oboro"

The samurai watched the weak ruffian for a few seconds, taking note of the endearing twitch those inhuman ears did when Oboro was annoyed. Benawi suppressed a grin, the thought of the other's annoyance the best thing he'd seen in days. "How is he?"

"His skin is warm to the touch, which is why Meiko suggested bringing him here. The nights are growing cold, so he will be more comfortable here," Yuzuha replied, offering a soft smile as she turned her head in direction of the patient.

"Autumn will be arriving sooner than expected, I worry the crops will not have enough time to be fruitful," Benawi voiced expressionlessly, his woes caused by Hakuoro's mention of the days growing short so soon. He blinked briefly, face screwing up at the realization of his words. Shaking his head, he stepped into the room and around the bed, finding a spot to lean on against the open window's ledge. Oboro's eyes didn't follow his motions, returning to stare at the ceiling. The opium often caused a sense of detachment and impaired vision, something Benawi had once been subjected to.

"You look tired, Yuzuha, you should probably rest," he suggested after a long silence, his previous sentence an obvious mood killer. The young girl turned her head in Benwai's direction, but said nothing, fingers intertwining with her brother's above her lap.

Hesitance molded her pure features into an expression of distress and confusion; the silver-haired fighter anticipated a question. Surely enough, she gathered her courage and spoke.

"Did someone attack him? They said you found him..." she spoke softly, voicing concerns she probably felt weren't hers to express, or so Benawi gathered.

"I am not sure, it could very well be the trek that wore him out. We know he was injured previously, in battle"

"How come no one caught it? I'm sorry, I should not..." Yuzuha looked down, setting her brother's hand back on the bed as she lowered her head, "I know how stubborn he is, I just wish he would be more careful in battle... I don't know what I would do without him,"

The samurai let out an inopportune sigh, one which the blind girl misinterpreted as his apathy towards her concerns; before she acted on her assumptions, he cleared his voice and spoke.

"Your brother is an extremely good fighter, Yuzuha. If he doesn't push himself, he will not be able to live with that... If something were to happen to you, and he was unable to protect you, he would become useless..."

"Useless?"

When the word was echoed in a confused tone, Benawi realized how that sounded, and added, "He would not be able to live with himself, he'd become a shell..." _like...me._ The realization of something so distant in his own past caused his chest to tighten, a decade of bottled emotion suddenly shattering within him. A flood of memories promptly chased him out of the room, leaving behind two very confused siblings.


End file.
